


Choices, Alliances and Retribution

by mgsmurf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: Brienne finds herself in a tempted alliance with Edmure and Arya in the Riverlands. Jaime finds himself unable to stand by Cersei's mad violence anymore. Their choices lead them to a collision course of retribution and a possible future together.





	1. Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is for violence and torture in later parts. Be warned, expect some dark in this. All major character death is from the show. 
> 
> Written for the 2016 Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week

Brienne and Podrick had traveled down the Red Fork as far north as it ventured. Then had traveled by foot off road from there, over hills and through forest and plowed fields. Brienne hoped they perhaps had enough coin for two mounts if they ever found someplace selling them. She was not looking forward to the trip north otherwise. 

Almost a fortnight after leaving Riverrun they camped at the Old Stones. A place that Brienne had only heard from legend before. No more than a ruin of castle walls upon a hill. But it provided shelter from the increasingly brutal winter wind. Pod had just gotten a fire going as Brienne skinned the rabbits they'd found for supper when footfall crunched the rubble of rocks around them. 

Brienne stood to her full height, her hand fisted the ornate lion of Oathkeeper's hilt. Jaime's words of, 'It will always be yours,' echoed in her head. 

“Look who we have here,” came a deep voice as a large figure stepped into the flickering light of the fire. Brienne gasped as she came face to face with the scarred visage of Sandor Clegane. He wore only a vest of boiled leather as armor, the sword on his hip bent and worn. He had a noticeable limp as he stepped closer. He smirked. “Imagine meeting you tonight, blue bitch.” 

Other figures stepped from the darkness around them. Another man stepped up beside Clegane. He wore rags but held himself with an air of importance. “Who is that?” the second man asked. 

“Brienne of Tarth,” came a voice beside Podrick. A smaller figure in dark clothing stepped forward enough to be seen. Arya Stark, a bit older and more womanly, just as short as when they had previously met and perhaps even more angry. 

“We mean you no harm,” Brienne said. “We will be on our way at first light.” Pod stepped closer to her and they allowed their fire to be shared. 

Clegane eyed the rabbits. The man beside him frowned. From the darkness stepped a woman dressed in the travel clothing of a lady, holding a brown-haired infant. She sat upon a log, cradling the bundled child. 

“Going where?” Arya asked. 

“North, to Winterfell.” Whether or not Brienne had failed and had caused the failure of Sansa and Jon Snow's attempt to retake Winterfell, she still needed to return, needed to hope they fared well without the Tully forces. 

Arya cocked her head. “Winterfell?” 

Brienne eyed Clegane and the others, then turned to Arya. She told her about saving Sansa from the Boltons and swearing alliance to her. How she returned Sansa to Castle Black and their brother, and the plans to retake Winterfell. She told how Lady Sansa tasked her with getting the aid of Brynden Tully their uncle. 

“Why did she think Brynden Tully would abandon his home of Riverrun in a siege for a niece he's never meet?” The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

“We did not know about the siege.” Brienne shook her head. 

“Lord Edmure.” Sandor tilted his head to the other man as introduction. “You gonna put those rabbits on to cook or not boy?” he asked Pod.

Pod sputtered a moment and then reached to finish readying the rabbits for cooking. 

Lord Edmure Tully, Brienne thought, now the lord of Riverrun and would be lord of the Riverlands. She could see the resemblance to his uncle the Blackfish, the auburn hair of his sister Lady Catelyn. Brienne bowed her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Edmure.” 

Last she had known Edmure had been a captive of the Freys, yet here he stood free. Sandor squatted by the fire and watched the rabbits roast. “Little she-wolf slit Walder Frey's throat,” he said as explanation. 

Arya gave a glare to Sandor before turning back to Brienne. The cold darkness in her gray eyes chilled Brienne. 

“Killed his sons with the most power to take his place too.” Lord Edmure stepped closer to the fire and reached out his hands to warm them. 

They said no more, but Walder Frey had many many sons and grandsons and bastards, indicating there was possibly infighting among the Freys about who was the next acting lord of the Twins. 

“Tarth?” Edmure asked. “That's in the Stormlands, correct?” She nodded. “Yet you serve my niece Sansa Stark?”

“Yes, my lord.”Brienne nodded again. “I served your sister Lady Catelyn before that.”

“You serve the Starks, yet you wear a very pretty Lannister sword.” Edmure cocked his head. Brienne had lowered her hand and the gold and rubies of the sword glittered in the flickering light. 

Sandor shrugged, as if telling her it was going to be asked about again. He ripped off a cooked leg from the rabbit. Pod had taken a plate to the other woman. Roslin, Brienne believed she remembered Lord Edmure's wife to be named. 

“Which Lannister did give you the sword?” Arya reached over Sandor, with a closeness born of familiarity if not trust, and took a piece off the rabbit for herself. 

“Lord Jaime gave me the sword,” Brienne answered, “to keep his oath to your mother Lady Catelyn and aid in my return of you and Sansa to safety.”

“You saw him at Riverrun,” Edmure said, “yet still you have the sword.” He stepped around the fire closer to her. 

Again Jaime's words echoed, 'It's yours. It will always be yours, Brienne.' She fought the urge to tightened her hand around the familiar lion again. “I still use it to protect Lady Sansa, and Arya if she so desires.”

Edmure now stood beside her. They were the only two not eating the finished rabbit. The others watched them closely, but said nothing. Edmure was a shorter man than his uncle so had to look up to face Brienne. His auburn hair was long and curled at the ends, his narrowed cheeks held rough stubble, his eyes were as blue as Catelyn's had been, as blue as Sansa's. 

“Jaime Lannister,” he said with a breathy growl, “threatened to throw my son over the walls in a trebuchet.” His voice rose in anger and he pointed to the infant sitting on his wife's lap. “He was going to kill my son if I didn't give him Riverrun.” Edmure trembled with anger that filled his blue eyes. 

Jaime had ended the siege with little bloodshed or fighting. She had not thought of what he had done to make that happen. “But Lord Jaime did not kill your son,” she managed to say. 

“Do you think he would not have killed the babe?” Edmure shook his head and sneered. “Does he strike you as a man opposed to killing children?”

“He does not kill children.” She frowned. 

“Just like he did not throw my brother from a tower?” Arya stood now, head cocked. A glint of murder shown in her gray eyes. 

“It was a choice between your brother and his own children.” Brienne shook her head. Jaime had done evils, yes, and he regretted it, she knew this. She wanted to ask what choice Ned Stark might have made if he faced the same. Would he have been able to kill a child to protect his own? But the words did not come. 

“You mean his bastards by incest.” Edmure's sneer grew wider 

Cersei, another one of Jaime's evils, one Brienne did not think he had yet walked away from, possibly did not yet regret. 'I know there is honor in you. I have seen it myself,' her words to him echoed. 

“Ser Jaime holds more honor than it appears,” Brienne said, face neutral. “More honor than he shows.” Than he shows to most she finally realized from the looks of disbelief of everyone save perhaps Pod and possibly Sandor. 

“So you support the Lannisters?” Arya took a step closer. Brienne tried not to think about how quick or precise Arya might be with her thin Braavosi blade. 

“I have sworn myself to Lady Sansa Stark,” Brienne said, voice solid, head high, back straight. “As I was sworn to Lady Catelyn Stark before her. I have never sworn a vow or oath to any Lannister, including Ser Jaime.” True, all true, and yet...

However, those words at least got Arya and finally Edmure to back off. Although the tension was as thick as the weather chill that night, and for many nights after as they traveled together toward Riverrun. 

#

Jaime took another sip of wine and paced his sister's royal apartment. He'd been quick to end the siege at Riverrun by his play on Edmure and they'd made haste back to King's Landing. Yet, all he could think of was the dark smoke rising from a third of the city, of his nightmare from long ago final given life. Where had Cersei gotten the wildfire? Had Qyburn found it, still beneath the sept, or elsewhere? When he closed his eyes tonight he knew he'd see the dancing green flames, smell the acid stench that now covered the city. How many bodies would dance and scream in his nightmares? Long ago he had sold his honor to prevent this, all for what?

Cersei finally swept into the room. She wore her coronation gown of black, decked with more silver than gold. Her beauty still took his breath as it had so many years ago. Her smile, fake and dangerous, turned his stomach. 

“What did you do Cersei?” He shook his head. Although he knew she cared not what he thought of what she'd done. He knew that from earlier, from their eyes meeting as her new silver crown had been placed on her short blonde hair.

She glided closer. “Is that any way to greet your dear sister?” Jaime handed her his nearly full wine glass. He thought about filling a second for himself, but turned instead to his sister. 

“Where's Tommen?” Surely he had not been in the sept. Cersei loved her children, he thought, if nothing else she loved her children. Yet, she had no tears for his son, for his last remaining child. 

“Did you dispense with the Tully's so quickly at Riverrun?” She drank down half the wine, and leaned back on a table opposite him. The pose made her breasts more prominent and Jaime's stomach twisted further. She finished her glass and Jaime refilled it. 

“I convinced Edmure to give me the castle.” He poured himself a glass and took a careful sip. 

Cersei cocked her head and sneered. “You didn't destroy them with our forces?” 

“Which is good.” Jaime scowled. “We'll need every man we have to deal with what you've done.”

“What I've done?” Cersei tilted her head, sipped her wine. 

“Turned the realm against us.” He shook his head. “Who all was in the sept?” She said nothing, looked at him with her angry green eyes and took a deep gulp of wine. She'd set the fire at her trial, Jaime now knew. So, the High Sparrow of course, oddly he found himself sorry for his death by fire, no one should die in such a way. The Tyrells as well then, Queen Margaery, Loras, Mace, perhaps even Lady Olenna. Who else? 

“Uncle Kevan? Cousin Lancel?” Jaime asked. A man without honor, he had once beat his own cousin to death with his chains, blood although a distant relation. Not their father's brother though, nor that man's son. 

Cersei sighed, drank more wine, pushed herself forward. “All of our enemies, yes,” she answered. She stepped towards him, hips swaying. She reached up and her slender fingers glided through the hair at the nape of his neck. “We destroyed them, burned them all.” An evil smile widened on her thin lips, glinted in her eyes. 

Jaime stepped back shaking his head. The pit of his stomach plummeted. His eyes widened. He fumbled to place his glass on the table behind him. His own words, but he had never meant them to come to pass. Just words, a fantasy as much as ever saying vows to Cersei in a sept had been. 

“It's what we wanted.” Cersei stepped closer again. “What we planned.”

Jaime shook his head and swallowed. “I never wanted...” He'd given away his honor and slew the Mad King to save the city, only to have his mad sister do it instead. Had it all been a lie? Had nothing he thought about his life and love of his sister been true?

“Tommen? What happened to Tommen?” His voice cracked at the words. He felt tears gather in his eyes. 

Cersei took a step back. She shook her head. “He...” For a moment emotion gathered in her eyes, softened her face, the echo of the grief he'd seen her show Joffrey and even Myrcella. “He didn't believe... He couldn't see...” She lifted her chin and drank deeply of her wine, then she lowered her gaze to Jaime. Candlelight glittered off her silver crown. “He was weak, like his father.”

Jaime hardened his face. A tiny, fake smile tugged at his lips. He dipped his head. “Good evening then, your Grace.” He turned to leave. 

Cersei lunged forward and reached out. She grabbed his gold hand, the part of him gone and only replaced for show, it gave him only a tug of sensation on his arm. “Jaime. Where are you going?”

He partly turned back to her. “To ready our defenses.” Jaime did smile now, fake and greasy. “Our enemies will be upon on soon enough.” Only enemies now, he thought, Cersei had seen to it the Lannisters had no more allies. He gave a slight bow and tugged his hand free to leave.


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime realizes where his true duty lies. Brienne does her duty to aid Arya and Edmure with Riverrun and gets horrible news from the south.

Jaime had given up sleep after the third nightmare of burning bodies dancing in green flames had awoken him drenched in sweat. The sun barely peeked above the rubble left of the Sept of Baelor. He did not believe in any gods, new or old. Smoke still rose in places, more gray and white this morning. The large building which had stood more than a hundred years had been reduced to a pile of smoldering jagged stone. A bodiless hand of Baelor lay before him. A ripped piece of the giant bell that had once tolled bad news in the city jutted from a stone wall behind. His duty had always been to the King and the royal family. Yet, in slaying the Mad King, he'd taken up the duty to protect the city from this. It had only proved worse than he had even imagined so long ago. 

He'd walked the rumble, around and around, torch in hand in the wane light of pre-dawn. Finally he had found it. A body not destroyed by the blast lay burned upon the jumbled stones. He knelt closer and leaned down to sniff. The smell of wildfire was so entrenched in his being he'd never be able to forget it. This body had not been burned by such. 

“Jaime.” Bronn's voice sounded over the crunching of his feet. Another time Jaime'd berate the swellsword for not using titles, but he was stripped raw enough in the moment to perhaps need the familiarity. 

Bronn stood above him as Jaime shifted the bones and ash. He'd found a loyal man-servant and paid him a silver for the knowledge of the King's death. Not by Cersei's hand, but what had she expected when Tommen had watched the destruction of everyone he held dear. Jaime lifted the melted ruin of a gold ring. The broad surface still held the stag sigil of the Baratheons. 

“Who?” Bronn's voice was soft. 

“The King.” Jaime wiped at his tears and smeared soot across his face. Bronn knew who the boy had been to him, but didn't voice it. 

The blacked skull lay on its side, a crack running through the temple. Jaime knelt again and kissed his lips to the ash covered bone, a kiss he'd never dared give Tommen in life. The young man had never really been his. Unlike Joffrey and Myrcella, he had died not knowing the truth. None of that meant Jaime hadn't loved his son. Cersei had held him and cherished him and Jaime would never get the chance now to ever do such with any of his children. 

“Help me cover the bones at least,” Jaime asked. Let Tommen rest with the sister and brother he loved, the father he adored, the ashes of his beloved Queen and councilors the boy had foolishly trusted, the High Sparrow and Kevan. 

They covered the bones and ash wordlessly, Bronn's face drawn and harrowed, Jaime's sooty face traced with tears. 

They mounted and rode through the silence of the city to the Red Keep. Bronn quietly rattled off the lords, ladies, knights and houses he'd tracked down as present at Ser Loras' and Cersei's trials. Mainly from the Crownlands, a few from the Reach and Westerlands. No one remained in King's Landing with enough backbone to stand up to Cersei. Did duty call Jaime to do that? How? Any act against Cersei would get him imprisoned or possibly killed. If Tommen was expendable, he was as well. 

“We have a plan?” Bronn asked with the gates of the Red Keep in sight. 

Jaime tightened his lips. “Not yet.”

He had no real titles in the Red Keep, but he was recognized, and he could now claim being the Lord of Casterly Rock, the head of the Lannister house and Lord Commander of the Lannister Army. Jaime spent the rest of the day doing what needed to be someone's duty. He made sure food was still coming in from somewhere to the city, that sick houses had been set up for the injured, that men had been readied to clear the rubble of the sept once its fires finally stopped burning. 

It was late, deadly dark and quiet outside, after a dinner he'd forgotten to eat, when a servant came with a summonsing to the Queen's rooms. He was worn and raw and wanted nothing but the truth from his sister and lover, although he was not certain Cersei herself knew what her truths were. 

“You needed something, your Grace?” 

Cersei stood at the window, watching the slight green glow that remained at the sept. She poured herself more wine as she turned, a crocked smile on her gorgeous features. He did not want to know how drunk she might be. 

She wore a sheer black gown with embroidery lions throughout. With a flick of her hand it opened and slid down her narrow shoulders, lovely hips and pooled at her feet. She stood there pale skin bare and beautiful. Gray streaked her golden hair matching the silver crown still atop her head. Lines spread at the edges of her steady green eyes and soft lips. Her ample breasts sagged a bit, lines crossed her belly from their children and her skin was no longer smooth. Even so, Cersei was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. However, neither of them were the silly children who had once pledged their love. Had hers ever been true? 

“I missed you, lover.” She strolled towards him, a slight stumble to her bare feet. 

Jaime's gut twisted with disgust, but his cock stirred and hardened from the memories of delving into her body. 

“I need you in me.” She reached out and gripped his neck. Her lips whispered into his ear. “I need you to make me whole.”

Jaime took a step away and Cersei stumbled and swayed as he retreated. “No.” Had he ever denied her this before? 

She cocked her head and took a sip of wine, then stepped closer again. “Do your duty and please your Queen.” 

She reached out and cupped his hard cock through his pants, rubbed it. He cursed his body as his hips bucked into her hand. He reached into his pocket and gripped Tommen's ruined ring until the jagged metal cut into his flesh. He didn't want her, he didn't need her. 

Jaime shoved her away again, then caught her from falling. He shook his head. “No, Cersei.” Never again, echoed in his head. 

Cersei stumbled back. Wine sloshed over her hand. She glared at him with livid green eyes. “How dare you?” 

Jaime shook his head again and stepped backwards further. He was bigger and stronger and if she couldn't rule his cock, she had no power over him. Jaime realized he had no duty to Cersei, no duty to fuck her as she'd asked, no duty to do the violence she commanded, no duty to protect her. He did have a duty to his house, a duty to the men who followed him, a duty to the legacy of his father. 

“No, Cersei,” his voice held more steel than he thought possible. “And do not ask again. Good night, your Grace.” He gave a mocking bow to her fury and left to while away another night of nightmares. 

#

Whatever troops the Freys had left at Riverrun after recapturing it must have been drawn back to the Twins in the infighting within the house. The Tully troops had not been killed by Jaime, and remained held within the castle. It left only walls and the river moats to guard against Riverrun being retaken. 

It had been Brienne and Sandor who planned out the limited siege. The Freys in more foolishness had left defense trenches and partially constructed siege engines. From the glares Lord Edmure gave them, Brienne reasoned the trebuchets were the same ones Jaime had threatened to throw his son in. She did not voice aloud again it had been only a threat. She would not have believed it before, but now she thought Jaime's reputation might be such that the threat was enough to have allowed him to play Edmure. At least she hoped that was the case. 

Her duty was to help the Tullys, Brienne did not doubt this. Her duty to Lady Catelyn, now long dead, should have also been to swear the same oath to Arya she had once sworn to Lady Catelyn and to Lady Sansa. However, Brienne found herself not doing so, not wanting to know how Arya might use such an oath. The world did have posses the clear lines she had once thought it held. 

The forces gathered to aid Ayra and Edmure were the Brotherhood Without Banners. A rough group of men loosely controlled by Ser Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr. Brienne trusted neither man, Ser Beric had been dead and brought back a good half dozen times, and Thoros was a drunk and Red priest. Sandor followed them but didn't trust them either. Arya wished to use them and Edmure only wished his home back. Each dawn Brienne wondered why she did not return to the north and her duty to Sansa. However, as much as Arya might claim to not need her, Brienne remained because clearly her duty was more important for her former Lady's younger daughter. 

They stood in a makeshift tent, chill winter wind stirring through the many patched holes in the fabric. “They can't have many provisions,” Ser Beric said. 

Thoros lounged against a chair, a jug of wine in hand. He shook his head and took a long gulp of wine. “The Blackfish would have planned better than that.”

Edmure frowned and nodded. “They have years worth. I am sure.”

“There are Tully troops inside?” Arya stepped from the shadows where she preferred to stand. “What chance do we have of freeing them to aid us?”

“Can't use your tricks here girl.” Sandor shook his head and sneered. “The drawbridge is up and guarded. Gonna swim in?”

“There is a way out by water.” Brienne leaned forward on the table. “Could one not use the same to get in?”

“They'd have the water gates up.” Edmure shook his head. “You'd have to swim against the current while prying it open. Doubt you're that good of a swimmer Lady Brienne.”

“I was born on an island. I was swimming the ocean currents almost before I could walk.” She stood up to her full height. She was taller and likely stronger than all of them save Sandor. 

“Let the big bitch try.” Sandor gave a chuckle.

“Ah, Maid of Tarth. You're not going in there by yourself.” Thoros smirked and shook his head. He didn't trust her or any claims she had given not to support the Lannisters. 

“I can go with her.” Slight Arya turned all eyes to her. “If you can manage the gate, I can manage swimming in a current.” She eyed Brienne. 

“Very well my lady.” Brienne finally bowed her head. It would make it harder if she would also need to keep an eye on Arya, but it also meant her charge would be close. 

The water gate was easy enough. Brienne was a strong woman and a good swimmer. After as they dripped in bare clothing on the stone floors, Arya was suddenly not herself beside Brienne and it chilled her further. With the deception it took little time to free the Tully troops, get them armed and lower the drawbridge. The few remaining Freys had not stood a chance even if the Tullys and Brotherhood Without Banners did not amount to many men. 

Much as Brienne pleaded with Edmure to keep the captive Frey troops alive, he had issued them all hung from the outer walls to decorate it for any more Freys that might wonder near. Brienne was helping load fallen bodies onto carts when Lord Edmure and Ser Beric pulled her aside. 

“Another raven from the south.” Beric actually frowned at her.

She tilted her head. More news? They had already heard from the maester here about the Sept of Baelor, about King Tommen being dead, about Cersei Lannister taking the throne for herself. They all hated the Lannisters more now. As much as Edmure moaned on about Jaime, Brienne knew for a certainty Jaime had nothing to do with any of it. He would never use wildfire, he could never have harmed one of his children. She had cried last night for Jaime's pain and wondered if she was the only other one who cared about such. What other news worst than this could the south being? 

“The Dragon Queen is burning and raping through the Stormlands with her dragons and Dothraki.” Edmure handed over a scroll. 

The Stormlands? Brienne swallowed and read. The Dragon Queen's fleet had reached Tarth first, of course, and it had tried to stand strong. 'All had fallen,' she read. All. The servants, her father's forces, Ser Goodwin, her old septa, but most importantly her father. She managed a nod. “Thank you, Lord, Ser,” her voice was steadier than her legs felt as she gave them each a bow. 

She stumbled to the sept and found herself knelt before the Mother. She leaned her head against the cold stone of the base of the Mother's statue and prayed those at Tarth had been given some mercy. Her home, her beautiful peaceful home had been burned and taken. Her father, the tall man who always had a smile and hug for her, who she so dearly loved, had been killed. Tears trailed down her dirty cheeks. 

Finally she leaned back and looked to the Father statue beside her. While she had been doing her duty to the Starks and their blood she had been absent for her duty to her house, her home and her father. She realized she was now the Evenstar, the last of the long line of Tarth. 

She stood and moved to the Warrior and prayed for strength. For now her first duty must be to Tarth, must be to furthering her house. No oaths or vows or promises could matter as much as her duty to keep her house alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda make up that part about how to get into Riverrun by water. In theory it wouldn't be that easy. Although, perhaps Brienne really is that impressive of a swimmer.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is not allowed to give Cersei another reply of no. Brienne finds herself protecting Jaime against his enemies.

Jaime had been avoiding Cersei. When he'd returned from the Riverlands the first time, without a hand, a broken and different man, perhaps for the better he now knew, Cersei had been icy cold indifference to him. This time, she was all fire and anger. Jaime wasn't sure how much he did know about who Cersei was these days, but he knew people she hated did not last long. 

“You called for me, your Grace?” Jaime entered the council room slowly, head up. The monster that had been the Mountain stood rigid and unblinking at the door. Only Qyburn sat at the long council table. Jaime could not be controlled, so had not been called to one of the half-dozen empty positions on the council. 

“Winterfell and now Riverrun.” Cersei threw raven scrolls onto the table. “Do they not know the war is over?” She sneered. 

Jaime stepped closer. He glanced at Qyburn and somehow kept the shiver that ran up his spine from showing. As if the Mountain was not bad enough, the rumors of what the mad former maester did in the black cells chilled Jaime more. He reached for the nearest scroll. 

“The Starks?” he asked, although he already knew. Qyburn didn't care so much for the ravens and the servant he'd put in charge of them came to Jaime with every bit of news, even if it cost a good bit of silver. 

“Arya Stark and Edmure Tully,” Qyburn said. “Helped by the Brotherhood Without Banners.”

Jaime kept the chuckle of such from passing his lips. Just what the Frey's deserved. “If I take that damn castle again I'm not giving it back to the Freys,” he said instead, his voice upset and face hard. 

“Exactly.” Cersei paused to sip her wine. “You'll squash their defenses this time, dear brother. Put Arya and Edmure's heads on spikes, then move north and do the same with Sansa Stark and Ned's bastard.” She gave him a wide smile that glinted evilly in her green eyes. 

Jaime tilted his head. What game was Cersei playing at, or was she playing any games as much as consumed with madness? “All well, dear sister, but what of the threats to King's Landing from the south, the Targaryen and the Tyrell armies?” He looked at both her and then Qyburn. 

Queen Daenerys had landed in the Stormlands with a large fleet and huge army made of Unsullied and Dothraki. They were sure to meet up with the Tyrell army, and supposedly had the backing of Dorne. Not that the Lannister forces even with the Gold Cloaks could hold King's Landing against the combined size of such an army. 

Tarth had been the first to face the Targaryen wrath. They had stood and fallen, Lord Selywn dead with the rest of his forces and household. Jaime wondered if Brienne had heard yet. He imagined her straight back, quivering chin and tears in her brilliant blue eyes. He would give almost anything to wrap his arms around her and comfort her. Instead he played a deadly game with his mad sister. 

“They have yet to move north,” Cersei replied. 

“But it is only a matter of time before they do,” Jaime said. 

“Besides,” Cersei continued, ignoring him, “we have the Gold Cloaks to defend the city.” Jaime almost outright laughed. A thousand men at best and only mere guards trained to catch criminals, against fifty thousand or more soldiers. 

“And we have what's in the black cells.” Qyburn gave a chilling half-smile. 

Jaime kept his eyes from flickering to the Mountain, still and unbreathing behind them. More monsters or not, it would not be enough to protect the city. “Yes, as it were, but you still need the strength of the Lannister army here, to protect the throne.” 

Cersei sighed and frowned at him. She drank down more wine. Jaime had to protest this. To pull the Lannister troops from the city meant it would fall, Cersei would lose the throne and perhaps her life. She, however, did not see that. She saw only her mad need for revenge against the Starks. She was going to send him and the army away, Jaime was sure of this now. Why did it fill him with such hope that she was going to let him escape her mad game? Out of the Crownlands he'd be able to move his Lannister army where he wished, to do what he need do to protect his house. 

“You still can.” Cersei narrowed her eyes. “You are capable enough of a leader to be victorious and quickly, are you not?” A hint she would find another if he answered no, not that she had another to send. “We'll hold the city and you can surprise them on your return.” She smiled. 

“I could perhaps take Riverrun quickly, but Winterfell....” Jaime shook his head. “Surely you do remember how far north it is. Winter snow will slow us even more.” Although as he spoke the words he thought perhaps that's where he should go, as far north as the King's Road would take them, off to fight what might be the real battle. To fight this war against the undead that the new Lord Commander Tollett at the Wall screamed about in the ravens he sent weekly to the Red Keep. 

Cersei banged her hand on the table. “I want their heads, Jaime,” she yelled. The scrolls jumped. Wine spilled from her glass. “Prove to me you are worth something.” She scowled across the table at him, livid. 

At her anger the Mountain had stepped closer and now stood behind Jaime. No was not an option, he realized. After refusing her affections he did not have another no he would be allowed to give her. 

Jaime gave Cersei a tight smile and bowed. She was the queen of a chair of swords and barely able to hold even the Red Keep. He was the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Lord Commander of the Lannister Army. 

“Their heads, my Queen, as you demand.” A lie out of Jaime's pretty lips. How many sweet lies had her own lips given him in their long past? “Your army will make all haste and return to protect you.” More lies, he would no longer be able to protect her. If he left, he left her to die and his chest tightened a bit at that reality. He bowed again. “I have an army to ready. We'll leave on the morrow. Your Grace.”

Jaime thought of taking one last look at his dear sister. Something told him Cersei angry, mad, half-drunk would be the last he ever saw of her. He did not look back though. It would throw off his game. He exited and hurried to Bronn. His army was leaving King's Landing, headed north, headed to protect the Tully and Starks if they'd let him. 

#

“He's headed north, with an army.” Edmure sneered. They all stood around a table in his great solar at Riverrun, a map with markers laid out on the long table. 

Lord Edmure spoke of Jaime and the Lannister army, perhaps the bulk of it. Brienne wondered why Jaime or Cersei would have thought it wise to pull the Lannister army out of the capitol. Daenerys and her huge army stormed through the Stormlands and ravens said they may be joining forces with the Tyrells at the Reach. 

Thoros lounged against a chair as normal, perhaps just to sat afoot. “Kingslayer's back to take Riverrun?”

“Again?” Sandor chuckled and smirked. “He ain't gotta be happy about that.”

“They could be going for aid at the Twins?” Ser Beric tilted his head. His voice always felt flat to Brienne's ears. 

“We'll know soon enough.” Edmure frowned. “Send scouts to the crossroads.” Thoros rolled his eyes that he'd been given an order, but made no protest. The alliance was weak and not a person in the room trusted each other. 

The Lannister troops would either continue north or turn west to Riverrun. “What are we fucking doing they come west?” Sandor asked. 

“The Blackfish had already laid a good defense for a siege,” Brienne finally spoke. She would aid in that protection, in keeping the castle in the hands of the Tullys where it rightfully belonged. She would also send a raven to Winterfell to let them know to ready their own protections. Perhaps Jaime could again be spoken to and peace brokered, although she did not voice this aloud. 

“Seven hells, forget a siege.” Edmure shook his head. “We'll have the Kingslayer within our grasp.” He pounded at the marker for the Lannister lion upon the spread map. “We trap him, capture him.” He sneered and his blue eyes glinted, flickered to Brienne. 

“Should we not speak to Ser Jaime first?” Brienne tilted her head. She kept her face solid and her eyes neutral. 

Thoros and Beric shared a look. Thoros shrugged as he took a deep sip of his wine jug. They both seemed to not care about Jaime Lannister one way or the other. At least it was something. 

It was Arya who spoke as Edmure glared at Brienne. “We don't have anything we wish to grant him in a trade.”

“What mercy has the Kingslayer ever shown the Tullys or Starks?” Edmure sneered, his eyes still glaring at Brienne. 

She opened her mouth, closed it and made sure to keep her words precise. “Ser Jaime kept his oath to your sister Lady Catelyn and granted me the means to protect your nieces.” Brienne lifted her chin, straightened her back. “He took Riverrun with only minimal blood-loss and did not destroy the castle in so doing.” 

“They blew up the Sept of Baelor.” Edmure's voice rose as he shook his head. “They killed the king.”

A king Edmure did not support, Brienne left silence. “Ser Jaime had not yet returned from the Riverlands. His sister Cersei blew up the sept.” Brienne could not speak to Jaime's dislike of wildfire much as she wished to. “And we all know who King Tommen was to him. Jaime would never mean the boy harm.” It was his son, she wanted to say. But, then was Tommen not also Cersei's son. What had happened in King's Landing to make the Queen not care about her own child?

Edmure stepped closer to Brienne. He stood to his full height and leaned up to look her in the eyes. He held no fear of her size or her strength. Brienne thought that foolish and wondered what type of military leader Edmure truly was. 

“The Kingslayer stood as close as you are now and declared to me his love for her sister.” Edmure smirked. 

Brienne tightened her lips. Her heart ached at the knowledge, but she already knew Jaime's feelings for his sister. Brienne felt the eyes of the rest of the room on her. She heard what the men had taken to calling her behind her back, Kingslayer's Whore. Brienne barely kept the blush from her cheeks so she did not reveal what they already thought, that she loved Jaime Lannister. 

“Love does not mean one must support the same side.” Her voice was thankfully solid. Despite her love for Jaime and the feelings he might hold for her, they had never been on the same side. Brienne implied Jaime had turned not only from the love of his sister, but also from his own blood and house. Hard for even her to believe. But, Cersei had killed hundreds, had possibly been involved in the death of their son, she knew Jaime could not side by for either, she knew this deep in her bones in a way she could not explain to any in the room. 

Edmure cocked his head, pinched his lips. 

“What side are you on, Maid of Tarth?” Thoros tilted his head and looked at her with red rimmed eyes. 

“The Evenstar of Tarth's,” her own, Brienne said before she could think it unwise. For she had no army or coin to retake her house's lands or keep. Instead she was here in the Riverlands arguing the politics between the Lannisters and Tullys. “I side with Lady Catelyn and her blood, as always.” She bowed her head to Lord Edmure. “And now I mean to send a raven to Winterfell, in case the Lannister army does not turn west.” She gave the room another bow and left them not wanting to know what they discussed in her absence.


	4. Reluctance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if you know the path, sometimes moving forward is hard.

Arya and Edmure had been spending nights debating and scheming in his solar, raised voices sometimes heard through the thick wood door. Brienne knew she should ask what their plans might be, but was reluctant to fully know them. Neither were at the main hall for dinner again tonight. Instead, Roslin and her babe sat alone at the head table. Beric and Thoros glanced at Brienne as she entered. She found herself in the back of the hall sitting across from Sandor Clegane. He scowled at her, took a deep gulp of his ale and continued eating his dinner. 

“Did you ask what the fuck they're planning,” he asked, “the little wolf and damned lord?”

Brienne eyed him and said nothing. A serving girl placed a bowl of stew before her, bread to dip in it and a mug of ale. At least it was malty and amber in color, more drinkable then the thick dark hard ale they made in the north. 

“Whatever it is, it ain't gonna be good for Jaime fucking Lannister.” He waved his bread at her, then gathered up the last of his stew with it. 

Brienne continued to glare at the large man. No, whatever Arya and Edmure planned none of it would be good for Jaime. She had said what good she could for him, and none of it had mattered to either of them. Their hatred of Jaime and the Lannisters was too thick. 

“You served the Lannister once,” she finally said. 

“Aye.” Sandor smirked. “Like my father before. Like whatever remains of my brother.” He gestured to her ale. “You drinking that?”

Brienne shook her head and Sandor reached across to take her mug and took a big gulp of it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Clegane seemed to run on ale as much as Thoros on wine. 

“You made it a point you don't serve Jaime Lannister.” Sandor cocked his head. “Would you think the same if he was offering you his cock?” 

Brienne hardened her face into a scowl and glared at the man. She tried not to think about Jaime's trim muscled body above her, about his hardened cock between her legs where she ached for him sometimes late at night. She swallowed and fought down the blush that threatened to cover her pale cheeks. 

Sandor just raised an eyebrow, smirked and chuckled. “I don't serve any one anymore.” He drank down another large gulp of ale and raised a hand to call for more. 

“I don't serve Arya Stark or the Tullys,” Brienne said. 

“Who do you serve then?” Sandor gave the serving girl a smile as she refilled both mugs. It was a bright and friendly enough smile, considering the gloomy features of the large man, but the serving girl still ran off with fear in her face. Sandor looked at Brienne and she looked back. She knew what it was to be judged by your fearsome looks. 

“I'm the Evenstar of Tarth now.” The words thick on her tongue as they reluctantly left her lips. Her lord father was the Evenstar, she thought, as the knowledge he was dead and she would never again see him echoed in her mind. “I serve no one here.” She was equal to Lord Edmure, better than Arya Stark. Brienne was reluctant to admit it, but she need now serve or follow either of them. 

Sandor chuckled and gave her a smiling smirk. He glanced over her shoulder to Beric and Thoros. “They're gonna use you, fucking Evenstar or not.” He took a deep drink of ale. “Ain't got any better bait for the Kingslayer, though I'm thinking the man might've lost his fucking sense to lust after you.”

Brienne eyed Sandor with a frown. A pit in her stomach worried the same, why did Jaime find her, large lumbering her, so attractive?

“Not saying I wouldn't lust after you, but I ain't a gorgeous god that women fawn over.” Sandor shrugged and Brienne thought back to the scared serving girl. 

Brienne wanted to say she just wouldn't play a part in Arya and Edmure's plans, wouldn't let herself be used, least of all to trap and capture Jaime. But what would they do if she said such? It was not as though she could just ride out with Pod and switch her support to Jaime and house Lannister. Not that her heart didn't ache at the thought of seeing Jaime again, her breath catch at the memory of his golden hair, stubble covered jaw and slight smile. 

“They would be foolish to use me,” she finally said. “Even if I managed to lie to the man, he would see through to the truth.” Her lips almost turned down to a frown. 

Sandor raised his eyebrow. A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Serve 'em fucking right to use you then.”

#

Jaime sat in an upstairs room of the Inn of the Kneeling Man. Here the fire blazing kept the room warm enough to withstand. Snow fell outside, big fluffy flakes that had started to accumulate. Winter had come and Jaime should just move his army through the snow storm. It may be the first but it would not be the last that they traveled through during this ages long winter to come.

Bronn entered and stomped off snow at the door. He crossed to the fire and spread out his gloved hands to warm them. “We're holed in enough for the storm.” He glanced out the paned window to the flakes. 

Jaime poured two glasses of wine. Nothing fancy from the Arbor like he'd gotten in King's Landing, but Bronn was usually of the thinking wine was wine. The sellsword made a much better drinking companion than he remembered Cersei being lately, though Jaime was reluctant to acknowledge he'd not be seeing his dear sister again. 

“How many days we plannin' on delayin'?” Bronn downed a third of his wine, and tilted his head. 

Jaime sipped his own wine and frowned. They couldn't really delay one day, not if he truly meant to be 'quick' with this siege and hasten back to the Queen. “Two days, no more.” Snow or not they'd have to move on within that time. A sitting army damaged the land and taking over the Inn was going to lighten him of coin the Lannisters did not have to spend as Cersei had for years. 

Bronn downed more wine and topped off his glass. “Another siege?” He cocked his head. There hadn't really been a first siege, but Jaime couldn't con himself out of another such truce, especially not with Edmure. 

He crossed to the window and watched the snow thicken on the brown and yellow landscape outside. How often did it snow in the Riverlands? He remembered snows at the top of Casterly Rock from the winters of his childhood. King's Landing rarely got more than a few sprinkling snows. But this was not a typical winter, and yet he thought to travel further north? 

“Arya Stark and the Brotherhood Without Banners helped Edmure out?” Jaime asked. 

Bronn nodded. “So rumors go. Fucking Hound was with them too.” 

Jaime had set Bronn to asking about for rumors and teasing out the truth of what had happened at Riverrun, the Twins too. If they had any luck perhaps his Aunt Genna was actually in charge there as proxy for his uncle. 

“You got a plan?” Bronn cocked his head and narrowed his dark eyes on Jaime. 

Jaime shrugged. He had an idea for one, an idea that was mostly insane and laughable, one he was reluctant to attempt. “I don't give a fuck about retaking Riverrun, let Edmure keep it.” He let the sneer fall from his face and sighed. He actually wished Jon Snow and Sansa well keeping Winterfell too. Part of him was glad she was home. Did he still owe Catelyn to get Arya north too? 

Bronn stepped closer, perhaps to hear what plans Jaime might have and share. Jaime knew the sellsword hated that Jaime thought too much on his feet to share much of his plans before they were being implemented. 

The door opened and his squire Peck entered. “A raven for you, m'lord.” He crossed and handed the still sealed scroll to Jaime, taking Jaime's wine glass with his other hand such that it looked seamless enough given Jaime's crippling. 

Jaime was going to ask how Peck knew the raven was for him alone when he saw the silver wax with a seal of a crowned lion on it. It could be from no one but Cersei. He opened the scroll and had to use his gold hand to hold one end down on the table to read it. 

'The Dragon Queen arrives from the south with a massive army. No time to take Riverrun or Winterfell. Return to King's Landing with all haste. I need you, Jaime. I love you. 

Queen Cersei, your beloved sister.'

Jaime frowned. There was no way to return to King's Landing in time. This was the decision he'd made when he'd left. Still he didn't want to face the reality, face that he would keep going to Riverrun, away from any chance to save his once beloved sister, his past lover. 

Peck had been reading over Jaime's shoulder and looked worried. Bronn raised an eyebrow. “Dragon Queen attacking?” He couldn't read, but didn't need such to know what would be written. 

Jaime nodded. “We can't aid her even if we wished it.” 

“That was the point in leaving, wasn't it?” Bronn cocked his head. 

The choice, Jaime wanted to say, it had been a choice to leave his sister on her own to what she had created. His whole life he had rushed to her aid when able, once he would have ridden by himself until he killed a horse to get to her. To do what in this case, die at her side? He swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. He didn't want to return, he didn't want to die for her or with her, even if he possibly could Jaime didn't want to save his sister. 

“Will you be sending a reply?” Peck reached across the desk for an empty scroll and ink. 

Jaime clasped Peck's hand to stop the young man. “No need.” He read the scroll once more. 'I need you, Jaime. I love you.' Then, he crumbled it in his hand and crossed to toss it into the fire. The paper caught and flamed. The wax melted and dribbled off. Jaime watched until all that was left was white ash. 

“Snow or not, we ride for Riverrun on the morrow,” Jaime said.


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you betray even those you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a happy chapter. I apologize now.

The messenger came at dawn two days after a storm had buried Riverrun in inches of quiet snow. He was dressed in the red livery of house Lannister, a dancing gold lion on his chest. The young man bowed after being led into Edmure's solar and then presented the lord a sealed letter.

“Peace terms from Lord Jaime Lannister,” he announced. “My lord does not want a siege or Riverrun. Lord Jaime hopes you will find his terms agreeable.”

Brienne turned to Edmure and was about to ask what the terms were. She wondered what Jaime thought he could offer Lord Edmure and Lady Arya that would make them agree to peace. Edmure sneered and tore up the letter unopened. The pieces fluttered to the ground. 

Brienne turned back to the messenger to ask what he knew of the terms. Arya stood beside the man, a hand in his hair and a knife suddenly in her hand. Arya said nothing as she drew the knife across the messenger's throat. He gave a surprised garbled sound as blood flowed over the gold lion of his livery. 

Brienne's right hand went to Oathkeeper, she took a step to reach the girl, and came face to face with Sandor Clegane. 

“Sorry 'bout this.” Sandor drew back his fist and hit Brienne hard under her chin. The world faded to black. 

Brienne awoke to darkness and chilled damp. The dungeon she realized. Her armor, sword and plated tunic had all been removed. A moan echoed from across the cell. Then an oil lantern opened to spill flickering light about the stone cell. Brienne blinked until her vision returned. 

Arya stood across from her with a harsh look and murder in her gray eyes. Edmure held the lantern, a deep frown on his handsome features. The moan came from Podrick. He hung by chains on the other side of the cell. Brienne could make out dark purple bruises covering his face, dried blood on his lips. She rose to her feet to go to him. Chains clanked and she was stopped short, her hands behind her back chained to the wall. 

“Do you know what our plan is?” Edmure asked. 

Brienne kept her eyes on Pod, his brown eyes half swollen shut, one shot with blood. She nodded. “You mean to use me as bait to lure Jaime here.” 

She heard Edmure place the lantern down, heard his footfall come closer. Arya stood beside Pod, a hand on the knife in her belt. “I don't care what power you have over the Kingslayer or why,” Edmure said just off to her side. “But you will say as we command, and bring him here, alone.”

“What do you want with Jaime?” Brienne swallowed down the fear that threatened to set her body trembling as she looked into Arya's mad eyes. Brienne would rather die herself than bring Jaime to them to be killed. 

“Don't worry,” Edmure said, his breath upon her shoulder. “He's too valuable alive for now.” Too much fun to torture, Brienne thought and this time she could not stop the shiver than ran up her spine. 

“And if I don't agree?” Her torture or his? Brienne would pick her own abuse. She could be the one to save him this time. 

Arya smirked. The knife glittered in the lantern light. In a quick, swift move, Arya took Pod's right hand and flicked off the tip of his littlest finger. It fell to the straw as blood flowed. Pod stiffened, screamed, eyes wide and lanced with pain. Brienne found herself stepping towards him without remembering the chains. Pain shot through her shoulders. 

“Podrick Payne,” Arya spit out the last with thick anger. “I'd rather have your cousin to take apart.” Her face split into a wide mad smile and joy gleamed in those murderous gray eyes. “But you'll have to do Podrick.”

Brienne forced herself to take a step back, her eyes now on Arya. She tightened her jaw to prevent from cyring out, still tears formed in her eyes. The choice wasn't her life for Jaime's, but Podrick's torture for Jaime's. 

Edmure sighed, and said, “Another.” Arya nodded. She still held Pod's hand and flicked off half of the next finger. Podrick screamed and pain shivered through his chained body. Brienne shook with anger. Her muscles tightened but could do nothing to Edmure or Arya, could do nothing to help Pod.

Pod caught Brienne's eyes with his own. Through swollen eyes tears dribbled down his bruised cheeks, still he shook his head at her. Ilyn was only his distant cousin with a shared name and Jaime Lannister meant nothing to Podrick. Brienne was the one who loved the man her current allies called an enemy. 

Brienne turned to Edmure and found him so close their bodies almost touched. She looked down at him. “What if he doesn't believe me?” She couldn't lie to Jaime. He would know it was a trap no matter what words she said, no matter how truthful they sounded. 

“The boy has so many parts that can be removed, piece by piece,” Edmure said, head tilted up to look her in the eyes, his dark and stormy blue, “until your words will be sure to convince the Kingslayer.”

Edmure turned back to look at Arya and Brienne followed his eyes. Ayra held Pod's ear. Another flick of her sharpened knife and it was shorn from his head. Pod threw back his head and his scream echoed off the damp stone walls. Arya tossed the ear to Brienne's feet. Arya's face held a half smirk of joy. 

Edmure wasn't capable of killing Podrick piece by piece. He was bold now only because of the fearlessness his niece gave him. But, Arya, Brienne's dear Lady Catelyn's younger daughter, she was more than capable of slowly and painfully killing Podrick. Arya would enjoy it, would play his screams and blood and agony in her head again and again afterward with that same joy upon her lips. 

Brienne's chest tightened, her gut twisted. She hadn't realized until now how much she dearly loved Pod. Hadn't realized how much she dearly dearly loved Jaime, in the way a woman loves a man. Her chin quivered and tears fell down her cheeks. 

She nodded and swallowed to wet her mouth enough for words. “I will do all that you ask and bring you Jaime Lannister as your captive.” Her words betrayed everything she ever wanted. Her heart broke as she wondered how Jaime would ever forgive her betrayal. 

#

The Lannister army camped a day's march outside of Riverrun, waiting. The thick red fabric did nothing to stop the chill of winter from entering Jaime's tent. He stood before Brienne who was bordered by two Tully men. He'd given her a smile, too large and bright and happy, when she'd been led into the tent by Peck. Her lips hadn't even tweaked into the hint of a smile in reply. She stood now with her features pale and stone hardened. Her beautiful eyes dull. Worried, Jaime thought, Brienne looked worried. 

“We've come in reply to your offer to treat.” Brienne's voice was hard, direct. 

Jaime kept his own worry from his face. Only Tully men with her. “Where's the Lannister man I sent as a messenger?” he asked.

Brienne stiffened. Her hand tightened on the hilt of Oathkeeper.“He's still in Riverrun. Well.” The woman couldn't lie even if she wished it, Jaime thought. His man was captured, likely dead. He kept his face solid. 

“They agree to what I have offered?” Jaime leaned back on his desk, tried to appear casual. 

Brienne tilted her head. “Portions of it. They... wish to discuss details in person, on neutral ground.”

“What portions did they have issue with?” Jaime crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his head. 

Brienne let out a sigh and gave him an exasperated look. Jaime cocked his head. “Lord Edmure would like to discuss that himself,” she finally said, her words precise. 

“Leave us alone.” Jaime looked at Peck and Bronn to his right. Peck nodded and turned to leave. Bronn raised an eyebrow and made his face actually shrug with question. Jaime just looked at the sellsword, not wanting to have to repeat himself. Bronn finally nodded and herded out the Tully men with him. 

No Podrick, Jaime thought. Where was Brienne's trusty squire? The tent flap closed before Jaime pushed himself off the desk and took the few steps to stand beside Brienne. 

He leaned up and whispered into her ear. “A trap? Whose and what do they want with me?”

Brienne didn't move but slid her eyes to look to him. She swallowed and he waited. “Arya and Edmure.” She frowned and finally continued, “I don't think they know what they mean to do with you.”

Jaime leaned closer, his body up against her blue armor. “If I don't come?” Her neck was there beneath his lips as he whispered. He cocked his head and waited.

Brienne shook her head, closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She placed something into his hand, something small, soft and sticky. Jaime looked down to find it a large toe cut just where it would have attached to a foot. To Podrick Payne's foot, he wondered. Brienne turned and dipped her head. Her breath was warm on his cheek as she whispered, “Arya kills Podrick ever so slowly.” She drug out those last three words as Arya Stark meant to draw out Podrick's death. What had happened to the Stark girl? 

Jaime returned the toe to her right hand, then reached and wrapped his hand atop her left that he knew clenched her sword. “The Tully men stay here.” A bargaining tool, however small. “You and I go alone.” So they'd have only him to kill. 

Brienne nodded and leaned into him. Her breath came fast and he realized it was from fear. “We'll find a way out of this,” he whispered against her cheek. Not that he knew what that was. Edmure he had some idea about, although the man must be furious at him. Arya... Jaime had barely known before, and had no idea what she was if she could do what Brienne said she meant to do to Podrick. 

She pulled back and shook her head. “Jaime. I am so sorry. I... I....” Her chin quivered and tears formed in the corner of her eyes. 

“Shhh.” Jaime pulled her closer again. “When you do evil things it eventually catches back up to you. Not your fault.” 

They looked at each other, noses almost touching. Jaime thought about kissing her thick lips. Tearful and quivering, her blue eyes laced with worry, it wasn't the right time. Instead he sighed and said, “I love you, Brienne.” 

Her eyes soften. She gave a half smile. “As do I, Jaime.”

They stood in each others arms, together for a moment. Then Jaime put on his sword and cloak. He commanded Bronn to set a guard for the Tully men. He and Brienne mounted up and were away. 

The meeting spot was a grove of trees on a hill within sight of Riverrun. They had such horrible luck in the Riverlands he thought. He glanced at Brienne as she dismounted and led him into the trees. 

It should not have surprised Jaime that Brienne held her sword upon him like the rest of them, yet it made his heart ache. Thoros of Myr more ratty than he'd been before was there with a few men Jaime took to be from the Brotherhood. Edmure had a handful of Tully men, none that looked up for a goof fight. It was the Hound right beside him and Brienne. Jaime wasn't sure if Clegane was there to handle him or Brienne if she counteracted Arya and Edmure. Once Jaime might have taken the odds. But once was not now with only his left hand, was not now where he'd have to force Brienne to match swords with him or have her choose him over her beloved Podrick. 

With a sigh, Jaime let his sword fall to the melting snow beneath his feet. Edmure commanded Jaime to his knees, spitting out the name Kingslayer, sword trembling with anger in his gloved hand. Arya held her razor thin Braavosi sword with skill. 

Clegane gave Jaime a couple good punches. He bound Jaime's arms tight behind his back and tugged Jaime back to his feet. With Brienne's help Sandor threw him over the back of a horse. Jaime jostled bound and laid like a sack all the way back to Riverrun. It reminded him of traveling delirious the same way after he'd lost his hand. As he jostled his head turned to catch Brienne's solemn face with tears in her blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Podrick. He was the bargaining chip Arya and Edmure had, and given his age just death might not have been enough to get Brienne to agree. Hopefully the bit of Jaime and Brienne in this helped with the dark. Have some faith it's ending well.


	6. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always darkest before the light. Jaime pays for past sins and Lannister evils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as dark as the last part, but Jaime does have some paying to be done.

There was no way to tell days in the dark of the Riverrun dungeons. Perhaps Jaime could just never set foot in the Riverlands again, it really did not agree with him. He longed for a warm summer sun, to be young again, to be whole again, but he could manage living out the rest of his days in a long night of winter if only he had Brienne in his arms. He had never realized how much you could ache for another person before now. 

Edmure and Arya eventually visited. She stood near the door, one hand on a knife, the other holding a lantern. She had the dark Stark features, almost an echo of her aunt who had torn apart the realm once. Her gray eyes weren't the cold of winter like her father's, but the chill of murder. 

Edmure sneered, yelled with rage and threw insults at Jaime. He wasn't the one Edmure was angry with as much as all the Lannisters and Freys and a year in captivity. It was everyone Edmure couldn't get to that he wanted to hurt, but what he had was Jaime. When Edmure had been his prisoner, Jaime had gotten the man cleaned and clothed, knowing how far such went to making a person seem human again. Edmure repaid his kindness with punches and kicks, until Jaime's pretty face was bruised, bloodied and broken, until his side and ribs ached. 

“Enough,” Arya finally told her uncle with a hand upon his shoulder. Edmure spat on Jaime's prone from as he turned and left. 

Arya remained. She set down the lantern and squatted beside him, head cocked. 

Jaime finally caught his breath enough to raise to sitting, long legs out before him. “I know what Edmure wants, what do you want with me, little Arya?”

“You can't give me back what I want.” Her voice was quiet and hard like herself. “I want my family, I want my innocence.”

He scoffed and grabbed at his ribs as the action sent pain shooting through him. “Don't we all?” 

“You're not on my list.” She tilted her head the other way and leaned closer. Certainly the more deadly of the two of his captors. 

“You have a list?” he found himself saying mockingly. 

Arya scowled. “Joffrey, Cersei, the Hound, Ilyn Payne, Meyrn Trant, Walder Frey....”

“You killed Walder.” Not so kindly either, Jaime thought, but the old man deserved what he'd gotten. 

“And Meryn Trant.” Arya smirked. 

Not the Hound, Jaime thought, but kept to himself. “Joffrey is dead, and the Dragon Queen will do the same to my dear sister soon enough.” 

Arya leaned closer still and cocked her head. “What were your terms?”

“Men to help your brother in the north.” He cut to what she might have agreed to. “The valyrian sword you took from me, Widow's Wail, is half of Ice. I'd return it to the Starks, where it should be. I'll pay to remake the hilt, a silver direwolf with dark dragonglass eyes seems appropriate.”

“You think you can buy me with a sword?” Arya crossed her arms and pursed her lips. No, Jaime thought he could temper her murderous desires with her family's ancestral sword. “Ilyn Payne?” she asked. 

Jaime frowned. Ilyn was a grown man, capable of handling a child Jaime hoped. “Casterly Rock,” he finally answered a little guilty over the admission. He shook his head. “He's a broken man. More broken than me, or than you.” Just let the man deal with his own regrets, Jaime left unspoken. 

“Where in Casterly Rock?” Arya asked. 

“He's the head of the guard for my cousin who rules the Rock.” Jaime knew the man would be easy enough to find. Maybe he was selling out the old knight for his own safety, but he longed to end the feud between their houses. 

Arya nodded and shuffled back on her knees. She looked at his boots and then pulled off his left one. Jaime cocked his head. She went to the door and returned with a hammer almost as long as her leg, the head as big as the Hound's fist. Arya stepped on his lower leg with all her limited weight. He couldn't have moved it if he wished. Jaime furrowed his brow, uncertain what the little Stark meant to do. Then the raised the hammer and sent it flying with all its weight and her strength into the meaty part of his foot. 

Jaime screamed as searing white pain shot through him. The back of his head hit the wall behind him. He clenched his teeth and forced breath through his nose. He kept his eyes averted, not wanting to see the ruin of his foot. 

Arya smiled down at him, a glint of joy in her gray eyes. “I had to give you something to remember me by.” 

Fucking murderous cunt of a bitch, he thought. But his throat was too tight with pain to voice any of the insult. 

With a glint in her eyes, Arya picked up the lantern and laid the hammer beside the door. “Are we settled then, Arya?” Jaime's voice cracked as he hid none of his pain. 

She looked over her shoulder at him broken, bruised and in pain. While she paused, he let out a shaky breath. 

“I'm sorry, Arya,” he whispered. “I'm sorry I failed your mother and her love for you, that I didn't find you sooner to bring you home to safety.” The girl was never getting back to home as she'd left it, perhaps never back to safety and very likely never back to peace. “Dear Arya, I'm sorry I failed my oath to you.”

A tear hung in her eyes, not so cold now. She swallowed hard. “I'll send the maester to bandage your foot.” After one last long look, Catelyn's lost little daughter left him in darkness.

A maester did come, an older man with salt and pepper hair and a deep frowned face. He set and wrapped Jaime's foot and left it aching horribly as Jaime would not take any milk of the poppy. The man was gathering up his supplies to leave when Brienne stepped through the door a torch in hand. Sandor stood guard outside. He and Brienne exchanged a look as the maester left and Brienne pulled the door closed. 

Brienne put the torch in a sconce on the wall and then knelt before him. “It look as bad as it feels?” Jaime asked. He would have smirked but his busted lip hurt. He held his bruised ribs gingerly with his right arm. 

She sighed and didn't answer. Instead she placed a bowl of water and rag between them and began to gently wipe the blood off his face. “Have they released Podrick?” he asked after a time. 

Brienne nodded. “Yes.” Or what was left of the young man at least, hung unspoken between them. “You see now how they can't be reasoned with.” She frowned and dabbed at his busted lip. 

“Arya perhaps can.” Jaime shrugged. He hadn't known he'd had an apology to give the girl before it had fallen from his lips. 

“And Edmure?” Brienne tilted her head. She did not have to ask that it had been the lord that had done the most damage to him. 

“Seems to still actually think I would have killed his babe.” Jaime sighed. 

“Did you mean to?” Brienne cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. Jaime gave an exasperated sigh. Did she think him capable of that? Her face softened a bit. 

“Can you get ravens to Winterfell and the Twins?” he asked. 

“Winterfell, perhaps.” She tilted her head. 

“Could Thoros or Ser Beric?” His offer to Edmure was good and fair but by the Seven the Tully wasn't going to even consider it. Riverrun might be Edmure's but he'd made alliances to retake it and used their force to keep it. 

“Perhaps.” Brienne gave a slow nod. “I did not bring paper and ink for you to write a note.”

“I can tell you what to write.” He shifted closer as she finally laid the wet rag aside. She nodded for him to continue. “Send a raven to my aunt Genna at the Twins. Ask the Freys to give up Riverrun.”

“Why would they do that?” Brienne tilted her head. She'd shifted closer so they sat facing each other. 

“So, the Lannister army doesn't take advantage of the chaos from Lord Walder's death to take the Twins for our own.” Jaime smiled as she shook her head. 

“You're in a dungeon Jaime.” Her words crisp and reasonable. 

“My army's not.” He smirked even if it tugged at his split lip. 

She sighed at him. “And Winterfell?” 

“Tell the King in the North and Lady Sansa that for my freedom I'll bring half the Lannister army north for their war against the dead,” he said. Brienne's eyes widened. “Twenty thousand men. And I return to them, under Arya's care, half of the reforged Ice.”

She tilted her head and sighed. “Jaime?”

“You know I owe them more.” Or his house at least did, and was he not now the head of house Lannister.

Brienne sat for a moment. She looked at his bruised face, at his crippled right arm holding his ribs, glanced at his bandaged broken foot. She finally nodded. “I will make sure both ravens are sent.” 

“One more thing, Brienne.” 

“Yes, Jaime.” Her voice as soft as her face in the flickering light of the torch. 

“Tell Lord Edmure if I'm not returned to my army within a weeks time, Ser Bronn will lay siege to his castle.” 

She tilted her head. “Will he?”

Jaime smirked. He'd left Bronn no actual instructions, but the sellsword by now knew what had befallen Jaime, and a siege or the show of such was well in the means the sellsword had to use. “Won't he?” 

She tightened her lips and narrowed her eyes. Jaime almost thought of telling her the truth, but she was a horrible liar so he thought it best she did not know if it was or was not an empty threat. Brienne nodded. “I will let him know.”

Jaime longed to hold her in his arms. He longed to kiss her face. Instead he did neither and they just sat. Just knowing she was here before him, for now was enough. It'd break him if he ever had to part from her again. If this ruse somehow worked, he foolishly longed to spend the rest of his life by Brienne's side. 

Finally, Brienne said, “I should be going.” She sighed and rose back to her feet. “I will return.”

He smiled up at her as she towered over him. “I'm gonna hold you to that Brienne.” She gave him a smile and a nod, then knocked on the door for Sandor to let her out. 

#

Brienne looked out over the ramparts of Riverrun. Across the river the Lannister army marched towards them, dancing gold lions on blood red banners. At their head in simple boiled leather on a dark horse road Jaime's sellsword Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Whether he meant to lay siege to the castle, or simply make a show of it, Brienne could not say, and Lord Edmure surely did not know. 

Thoros of Myr came up behind her and leaned on the stone wall of the rampart. “Lord ain't gonna like seeing that.” He shook his head. He was tall and thin, with wild red hair and beard to match. Brienne still did not trust him or his god of light. 

Yet, she had trusted him to help get the ravens to the Twins and Winterfell as Jaime had asked. She should wonder and worry if Edmure knew about them, but found herself not caring. Jaime had trusted her with playing at politics. She was the Evenstar and she should be capable, although she still felt herself lacking. 

Ser Beric came up behind. At least the eye patch covered his missing eye. His armor clanked, rusty and dented. “Think they actually mean to lay siege?”

Thoros shrugged and sipped his wine. Brienne answered. “It would be best to assume so.” 

Beric gave a sneer of a frown. Thoros said, “I spoke with your Kingslayer, Evenstar.” 

Brienne turned to the red priest. “Yes?”

“Twenty thousand men to march north.” Thoros shook his head. “One thousand to remain here and help defend the castle when the Dragon Queen comes, not that I give a fuck about that.” He shrugged. “And the Freys are willing to give up rights to Riverrun if they can keep the Riverlands. Means it's the Frey's have to bend a knee to the new queen or face her wrath.” He took another sip of wine and leaned further against the stone. 

“It is a more than fair offer.” Brienne nodded. “Yet, Lord Edmure....”

“Ain't thinking fairly.” Thoros shrugged and gave a half smile. Brienne nodded. “I don't give a fuck about Riverrun, and ain't gonna feel guilty leaving it if the Kingslayer says what he means. I want those twenty thousand men.” He angled his narrow head at Brienne. Thoros eyes were hard and pale in his face. Brienne managed to keep the smile from her face. Edmure may not have a choice to not agree to Jaime's request, because Thoros and Ser Beric wanted to agree for Edmure. 

“A reply from Winterfell.” Thoros placed a scroll in her hand. 

The red priest had already broken the seal, a white wax for the King of the North, the white wolf, instead of the usual Stark gray. Jon Snow and Sansa wanted to know what Jaime offered to bind him to holding up his end of his offer. He had not mentioned what he had in mind. 

“I will ask him,” Brienne said. 

“Lord's seeing him tomorrow.” Ser Beric did not take his gaze from where he watched the Lannister army making camp. 

“Yes.” Brienne nodded and pocketed the scroll. She gave the Lannister army another glance and then made for the dungeons and Jaime. 

It had almost broken her heart to see him that first day, bruised and broken. Pain had been written on his face even if he denied to mention or admit it. 

Today, he gave her a half smile as she entered. The torch cast shadows in the darkness and softened his healing bruises. “Back again Lady Brienne?” 

She settled on the straw covered stone beside him and handed him a hunk of bread that he readily ate. She had been back every day and longed to return every moment she did not sit beside him. 

“Bronn has bought your army to Riverrun's gates. The Freys have agreed to your request. And Winterfell has sent a request.” At the last she handed over the scroll to him. 

“They don't believe me at my honorable word?” Jaime gave a light chuckle. When Brienne frowned he waved his unchained right arm at her. His reputation and word was shit, no matter what Brienne thought of such. He used his stub on his thigh to hold open the scroll to read. Then he smiled over at her. “I'll use the usual means of making alliances between houses. Marriage.”

Brienne's stomach dropped. Marriage? He had said he loved her. She had said the same, had she not? “Marriage to whom?” her voice rose too much at the end of her words. 

He smiled and tilted his head. “To you, of course, Brienne.”

She shook her head. “But I am not a Stark.”

“No, but you've proven your loyalty to the Starks and Tullys.” Jaime nodded. “You've sworn an oath to Sansa Stark and I will swear marriage vows to you.” 

Brienne's heart raced, her palms sweated. She didn't want to believe he proposed this madness, yet longed for it to be true. “You need not do this, Jaime.” She frowned. 

He gave an exasperated huff. “I want to do this, Brienne.” Jaime shifted closer. 

“To make me your Lady of Caserly Rock?” She had heard that Jaime had been relieved of the Kinsguard and his oaths. Still... “I am the Evenstar.”

Jaime nodded. “Yes, and you will always be the Evenstar. You don't need take my house.” He propped himself up on his stub and leaned close enough she could see the remaining cuts in his face, the yellow of his bruises even in the low light. She could smell how unclean he was, yet so much fresher than when they had first meet so very long ago. 

“I need an heir.” Brienne knew she faltered now while her heart's longing had already given itself to this man. 

“Then I'll give you an heir.” His voice was sure. “Our first child will be heir to Tarth.”

“An island I do not even control.” Brienne frowned and tried not to think of her father and his warm smile, his welcoming arms hugged around her. 

Jaime cupped her face and his thumb wiped away a tear she did not know had fallen. “When spring comes, we'll take back your island for you. I swear, and sit our first born and your heir to Tarth there.”

Brienne looked into his green-blue eyes, full of honor no one else saw but her. Why would he want her? “I'm... large and plain and awkward.” She sighed. Much as she longed for him, couldn't he see this?

“Yes.” He nodded. “And strong and stubborn. You're also kind and honorable, and the kind of knight I once wished I could be.” Brienne frowned as Jaime scooted closer, their bodies now beside each other. “I don't care what the fuck anyone thinks. I don't care if they'll wonder. I want you, Brienne. I love you.”

She couldn't stop herself from still frowning at him, although he had at least paused her words. With a sigh, Jaime narrowed the small distance between them and placed his lips on hers. The kiss was light and tentative. Brienne found her hand on the back of his neck. She kissed him back, awkward as she had no experience with this. 

Jaime angled his head differently. His mouth opened slightly. Their lips fit together better. Brienne's fingers gripped his hair. Her other hand moved to his back. His hand was warm on her neck. His tongue traced her lips and Brienne opened them to let his tongue slip into her mouth. 

Now this felt good. Warmth spread through her and settled in her gut and lower. Jaime let out a moan and pulled her closer. Their lips glided over each other, their tongues dueled. Brienne gasped high-pitched and maidenly.

They finally drew apart, both sucking in breaths. 

“Gods, woman.” Jaime chuckled. Brienne worried what that might mean, but a wide smile covered his flushed cheeks. She found herself smiling back and knew a blush must cover her face, neck and lower. 

“On the morrow Edmure will call for you,” Brienne finally managed to say. 

Jaime nodded. She thought about kissing him again, but was not sure she would be capable of leaving. 

“Until then.” He smirked. 

Brienne bowed a goodbye as she stood on still wobbly knees. She glanced once over her shoulder at him as she left. The darkness almost swallowed him since she'd taken the torch. His eyes gleamed warmly at her though and her longing for him ached as she had to once again leave him, alone and hurt in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this part helped to explain some of the actions in the last chapter. I love that in the middle of rewrites the Jaime apology just came to me. I think it helped. As well as Edmure mad at the world and all Lannisters, but only has Jaime still alive to harm for them. 
> 
> Gonna try and get to to settled and happy by the next chapter. 5 chapters of tension and 2 of resolution is hard to plot.


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime admits a big truth to help get himself out of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry no smut to this, but I did get them to a happy ending.

Jaime was led before Edmure the next morning, not that he got any time to be thankful to see the sun again. His arms were not bound. Sandor walked closely on his right and Brienne on his left. He limped, each step shooting pain up from his broken foot. Curse the murderous cunt of a wolf Arya. 

“Kingslayer,” Edmure spat when Jaime finally stood before him. Arya stood beside Lord Edmure in finer black clothing than usual, although still pants, a tunic and today boiled leather cut to fit her well. Thoros and Ser Beric were off to the side. 

“Lord Edmure.” Jaime gave a small bow and bit back the pain in his ribs with a tight smile. “Is Ser Bronn and the Lannister army outside your walls again?” Edmure frowned, which made Jaime smirk. “Are we here to finally discuss what I offer you in exchange for an alliance?” 

Edmure shook his head. “We're here to discuss your crimes against house Tully and Stark.”

Jaime scoffed. “What all of my family's crimes do you rain upon me? The Sept of Baelor? My dear mad sister's doing. The Red Wedding? My father's. Yes, a most horrible end to the young wolf Robb, who I respected at the least, and worse to Lady Catelyn, a woman of grace I actually did like. The Blackfish? I offered the man peace but he didn't want it, and I'll believe he's dead when I see him, which I have not yet.”

“And what of my son?” Edmure stepped closer. Jaime noticed the red scabs and bruises upon his knuckles from the beating he'd given Jaime. Those bruises on Jaime had by now turned horrible purple and yellow in the bright light coming from the windows of the hall. 

“An empty threat you believed because of my reputation and shit honor.” Jaime shrugged. 

Edmure frowned. “What if I had called you on your lie? What then, Kingslayer?”

Jaime shrugged again. “Would you have still believed it a lie had I called for your son and placed the babe in a readied trebuchet?” He tilted his head. He had hoped, rightly so, he did not have to go that far. 

Edmure sneered. 

“You claim no part of anything your house has done against us?” Arya's voice carried in the long hall of Riverrun. 

Jaime frowned. He knew he was an evil man, who had done many evil deeds for his sister, his father, his kings and his family. All eyes were on him. The silence stretched out. Give them an army, give them back half of Ice, try to act humble. Jaime almost sneered, because when had he ever been humble, he was a lion, a mass of arrogant pride. Had that not been what the young wolf had used to capture him once. 

“Is that how you sleep with yourself, Kingslayer,” Edmure said with his own sneer, “deny your evil deeds?”

“No.” Jaime shook his head. “I have done many evil things. I've killed men, killed a king.” He sighed, because it was not by that hand he'd once thought defined him that he had most wronged the realm, a realm he realized he did still care about, no matter the mess it was. 

He let out a long shaky sigh. “I loved my sister, wrongly.” Never had he said the last aloud before. The hall had fallen back to silence, only his voice echoed among the stone walls. “I fucked my sister.” More truth he had never spoken. “And when she asked, I fathered children by her, incestuous bastards who could not be mine to hold, raise or properly love.” 

His voice just barely managed not cracking at the last. Only now that they were all dead, even poor sweet Tommen, could be say this. He had loved them as he could, and now they could no longer be hurt as they rested as ash in the rubble of the Sept of Baelor. 

“Everyone knows this.” Edmure shook his head and took a step closer. “What of it?”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. Everything else followed that. “I left King Robert, and the realm, no rightful heirs. For that secret, I pushed Bran from a tower window, crippling him in an attempt to kill and silence him.” This Jaime said with eyes on Arya. “The truth of that secret is why Ned Stark lost his head, why King Robert faced a boar when too drunk to stand.” He frowned. 

He turned to Brienne. “That truth was why Renly and Stannis rebelled, brother facing brother, and both now dead.” Brienne gave him a tight frown. 

Jaime turned back to the hall and in the echoing silence continued. “My secret and the truth about my children was at the heart of the War of Five Kings, of the travesty that befell houses Stark and Tully and Baratheon.” 

No one spoke for a time. Arya frowned at him, those gray eyes of hers thoughtful, a soft echo of the kindness he remembered from her mother. 

Edmure finally said, “While the Lannisters won.”

Jaime scoffed and almost broken into mad laughter. “Won?” He shook his head. “My father, uncle and cousins are dead. My brother fled to return with the enemy.” Jaime scrunched up his face. “The children who were not mine all dead, my sister grown mad. And me, an old crippled knight, the only one left to harm and kill for the ills my house has done.” He shook his head. “No one won the War of the Five Kings. Few ever win a war.”

Not a soul spoke to that. No one ever wanted to face that wars were more death and killing than wining and victory. 

“What do you mean to do for your deeds?” Arya said, her voice quiet in the hush of the room. 

“I have wronged the realm.” Jaime shrugged. “I mean to help your brother the King in the North save it from the threat not made of men.” 

“All good.” Edmure shook his head. “But what does this do for the Tullys? How do you repay us?” He cocked an eyebrow. For a Lannister does always pay his debts.

“You want Riverrun,” Jaime told Lord Edmure. “It's yours, and your son's, and your grandson's after for all I care.”

“It is already mine.” Edmure angled his chin. 

“It won't be in a fortnight when my army lays siege to it.” Jaime shrugged. “Let me go and fight for the realm's defense. The Lannisters and Freys give up their claim to Riverrun and your lands, which we gained by ill means as we all known. And I will leave one thousand Lannister men to help you defend your keep when the Dragon Queen comes.”

“Control of the Riverlands stays with the Freys.” Edmure shook his head and stepped closer still. The Tullys had ruled the Riverlands for generations, and Jaime had to admit that must sting. 

“The Dragon Queen's going to be here soon enough to burn and pillage whoever controls the Riverlands.” Jaime cocked his head. Another problem, but let him get out of one of them at a time. “Best that's not you she targets.”

Edmure crossed his arms, tilted his head and frowned. Jaime had a point. Let the Dragon Queen burn down the Twins and slay the Freys to get someone to bend a knee. 

“Yourself to fight, a cripple as you state.” Thoros of Myr tisked and stumbled forward, jug in hand. “But twenty thousand men to the campaign in the north...” His unkempt hair was gathered atop his head, his beard wild and red, his eyes red rimmed from drink. It reminded Jaime of King Robert, never sober those last years. 

Still, Jaime kept his face solid. “Yes. Half of the Lannister army goes north, as payment to the Starks. The other half goes to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands.”

“And who's commanding this army?” Thoros tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. 

Not you, Jaime left unsaid. “I would, but you don't trust my honor.” He smirked over at Edmure. “So my new bride will command them. She's proven her loyalty to you.” 

Arya strolled forward, shaking her head. “You better not be talking about me?” 

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. “Lady Arya I would not survive the wedding feast much less the wedding night if I took you as a bride.” 

Thoros leaned forward. “Then who?” 

“Lady Brienne, the Evenstar of Tarth.” Jaime's voice echoed in the great hall. 

All eyes shifted to the blue armored woman beside him. Jaime didn't have to glance to know a blush rose on her cheeks and face, likely crept down her neck. 

Edmure stormed to stand before him. “Are you playing me again, Kingslayer? Are you all playing me?” He twirled his gaze upon the room, at Thoros and Beric and even his niece. 

“Shut up,” Beric said. “You're getting to keep your castle with men to defend it, what does the rest matter lord?”

“Do you agree to this, Brienne?” Arya asked, head tilted and actual concern in her words. 

“Of course she fucking agrees to it,” Sandor mumbled beside Jaime. 

Thoros stepped forward and rose to his full tall and lanky height. He cocked his head and looked Jaime in the eyes, Thoros' stone sober and studying. Finally, Thoros turned to Brienne. “Do you agree, Evenstar?” 

Brienne swallowed, looked around the room, then finally at Jaime. Gods, he hadn't meant it to play like this, because who would believe she could say no when yes meant his freedom and safety? 

But Brienne looked at him with those bright, open blue eyes of hers, and the rest of the world didn't concern Jaime anymore. He heard Arya say, “You don't have to Brienne.” Edmure and Thoros seemed to be arguing about whether they were agreeing to Jaime's terms or no. He'd gambled on Edmure not being in as much charge as Edmure thought. 

“Yes.” Brienne's loud voice echoed and silence rippled through the room.

Jaime didn't have to look at them to see the doubts, to see how they thought he'd tricked her. The way his heart threatened to beat out of his chest wasn't a lie. Neither was his wet palm, or his light-headedness at one single word from her. Curse them all, his love of this woman could never be a lie. 

He reached out to Brienne and dug his fingers beneath the gorget at the neck of her armor. Jaime tilted his head, leaned up and kissed the woman he loved, the large warrior knight of Tarth. The silence in the room turned to gasps. Jaime was glad they'd done this before in the cell, because this second kiss they fit like they belonged. His lips glided over hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth. Her gauntleted hand fisted in his lanky dirty hair. A moan escaped her, the high-pitched sound of a woman. Just let them think that was all a lie Jaime thought as he smirked against Brienne's lips. 

#

“Yes,” Brienne manged to say. All eyes were back on her as silence enveloped her. What had he left her to say though? Jaime almost frowned even though a flush started to spread over his bruised and yellowed cheeks. 

Then, he reached up, pulled her down to him and kissed her. There was nothing gentle and tentative like their first kiss. Their lips moved with familiarity. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded in her chest. A warmth spread out from her belly. Her fingers fisted in his hair. Se cursed her armor that it prevented her from feeling his warmth and thanked that it hid the shiver of desire that coursed through her. 

They finally pulled apart. Her face a rosy blush. Jaime's eyes sparkling and a smirk on his lips. The only sound she heard was their deep breaths. The rest of the room stared at them, but Brienne looked only to Jaime. 

“Jaime Lannister I will marry you,” her voice somehow solid even if her knees felt weak and her head swam, “but not for your freedom or for your army.” Jaime tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “But because I trust you.” Jaime let out a deep breath and cupped her cheek with his hand. He'd asked that once of her, in the baths of Harrenhal, for her to trust him. 

“Good enough for me,” Thoros said. “Arya?” 

The young Stark tightened her lips but nodded. “The Kingslayer has righted himself enough with me.”

Thoros looked to Edmure. “Lord?” 

“Leave us Kingslayer so we can discuss.” Edmure frowned as Thoros, Beric and Arya surrounded him. Jaime had to hope that Edmure didn't stand a chance with what Jaime offered everyone else.

Brienne alone led Jaime from the great hall into a narrow passageway outside. Jaime grimaced with every step. She gestured to a wooden bench against the wall and watched as he sat gingerly on it. She still could not believe the words that he had spoken.

“What?” Jaime cocked his head up at her. 

Brienne tightened her lips and shook her head. “You are not the man who swore an oath with me to Lady Catelyn.” Not that she was still the same woman, but while the world had jaded her it had changed him for the opposite.

“Aren't I?” Jaime furrowed his brow. He swept out his hand for her to sit beside him. 

“No, you are not.” Brienne studied him. He still looked awful. Deep healing gashes and yellowed bruises made his face almost ugly. “That man would have been too prideful to admit what you just did.”

He shrugged and looked maddeningly cocky and somehow still pretty. 

“Commander of your troops?” She tilted her head to look at him. They had not discussed this and she had not expected it. 

“They weren't trusting me to do it.” Jaime raised a eyebrow. 

“What of your man Ser Bronn?” Brienne tilted her head. 

“The one laying siege to their castle?” Jaime scrunched his head. “Really, Brienne.”

“That is not why you asked me to marry you, is it?” Brienne cocked her head. “To command your army?” She did not believe it, yet she found herself having to ask it. 

“No.” Jaime shook his head and frowned. He glanced around at the empty passageway. Inside the hall voices raised as they argued with Edmure. He reached out his right arm to the back of her plate armor, a move she could not feel, and pulled her closer. 

“I've told you,” Jaime said with a sigh, “I asked because I want you, I love you.”

“What of Cersei?” Part of Brienne did not want to ask. Was he truly done with his sister?

“I chose you, Brienne, you.” He leaned closer. His chest against her armor. “Must I kiss you again? Until I harden for you, until I make you moan my name?”

Jaime looked up at her, his face right there before her, his breath puffing warm on her cheeks. She swallowed and shook her head. “Not necessary,” she said. 

Jaime smirked and gave a light chuckle. “Too bad, I'd have enjoyed it.” He glanced again to make sure they were alone. 

Brienne sighed and shook her head, not that part of her did not enjoy his jape. He moved no closer, but the look Jaime gave her intensified. It took her breath away without him even touching her, and she realized she did trust this man, trust him enough to marry him, trust him enough to follow him. Brienne found herself closing the distance between them to kiss him. This kiss held promise. The promise of many more kisses. The promise of more beyond kisses. The promise of a possible future of love with his man. Brienne clung to all of that, like his dirty leather jerkin beneath her hand. 

Footfall behind her drew her attention. Brienne pulled back from Jaime, embarrassed. Jaime smirked and gave a light chuckle. 

“Podrick,” Jaime said as he pushed himself to his feet. “Good to see you.”

Pod gave a shy smile, bowed his head. Brienne forgot sometimes that Podrick's house was sworn to the Lannisters, that Jaime was now his liege lord. Pod's face had healed in the last week, the bruises starting to fade and cuts scabbing over. A bandage circled his head were beneath his skin healed where his ear had once been. 

Jaime stumbled forward. Unlike Podrick's fingers, toe and ear, given time Jaime's foot should mostly mend itself. She wondered if this was part of the payment Arya had spoken about. “I must thank you, Podrick, for taking the anger of my enemies.”

Pod waved a hand, his right, where a thick bandage covered where he now missed fingers. “I would do it again my lord, especially for my lady.”

Jaime sighed. “I should just fucking knight the both of you, here with a septon to properly anoint you.” 

Pod cocked his head. Brienne frowned. “You can not knight a woman, Jaime.”

He gave that cocky smirk of his. “Can't I? Is there a rule somewhere otherwise?” He smiled wider to her sigh. “Besides, you're to led my men, should you not at the least be a knight?” His words held that brazen arrogance she would not admit to enjoying sometimes. There would be no talking him down from this. 

Beric stepped from the Great Hall. “The lord's ready to see you again.” 

They walked back in, slowly as Jaime struggled to keep his pain from his face. Podrick now to his other side. 

Edmure scowled as they entered, glanced at Thoros and then Arya. “Kingslayer, I accept your conditions to treat with one further request.” Jaime cocked his head. “When the Freys fall or spring comes, you will help house Tully reclaim lordship of the Riverlands.”

Jaime sighed and nodded. “Yes, house Lannister will aid you doing such, whichever comes first.” Brienne wondered if partly Jaime agreed thinking that he might never live to have to fulfill the request.

“Good.” Thoros stepped forward. Jaime had been right that the red priest was more in change than Edmure desired. “You and the Evenstar have a week to arrange the marriage and get your army moving after.” 

Jaime nodded. “I assume I may do this out of a cell?” He tilted his head. 

“Under guard.” Edmure said stiffly. 

“Of course, my lord.” Jaime looked like he wanted to smirk but a glance at Brienne paused him. 

“I will see that Ser Bronn knows his siege has been called off.” Brienne spoke. Heads nodded to that. Perhaps Jaime did have something to the loyalty that she had shown. 

“That will be all Kingslayer.” Edmure swept his hand in dismissal. 

Jaime did manage to turn away from Lord Edmure before scrunching his face up in dislike. Sandor flanked Jaime's side, and Jaime seemed to not notice. 

“Let me know if there's something you wish me to retrieve from your camp when I meet with Ser Bronn.” Brienne knew her voice and words were too formal. Sandor gave a light chuckle at them and a blush still stupidly crept to her cheeks. 

“Besides clothing?” Jaime looked down at his ruined jerkin. “Just let my squire Peck know of the situation and he can manage the rest.”

There was such authority in Jaime's words, trust in his man. Brienne wondered again if Jaime had actually left commands with Ser Bronn, or if he had just trusted the sellsword to do as he should without them. She kept a frown from her face, but still worry nagged her that Jaime had faith she could lead his army as well as he did. 

Brienne turned to see Jaime and Sandor standing looked at each other. “May I ask a moment alone with my betrothed?” 

“Under guard,” Sandor replied with a deep voice, hard face and shrug. He leaned down into Jaime's face with a leer. “Wasn't planned on fucking her 'fore you said vows were you?” 

“Actually, no.” Jaime gave a bright smile to Sandor's glare. “I mean to leave her her maidenhood until I make her my rightfully wife under the Seven.” 

Sandor gave a deep rumble in his throat and took a few steps back. “Fucking get it over and kiss her again.” He turned enough that his gaze looked out the windows to the river below. 

Jaime gave her a smirk. Brienne tilted her head and returned an exasperated look, not that she wished Jaime to not continue to rile her as such. “Gonna have to get you out of this armor sometime.” He sighed and stepped closer. His hand was warm against her cheek, about the only place not covered in plate or her plated jerkin. His lips soft upon hers lingered and caressed, perhaps purposely light enough to not fully excite either of them. It made her seem such an inexperienced maid. When Sandor finally gave a loud snort Jaime pulled back slowly. While the kiss might have been gentle, the searing lust in his eyes was the opposite. 

Jaime licked his lips, tilted his head and then dipped forward and up to whisper in her ear, “I am yours, Brienne, always.”

“As am I, Jaime.” 

Sandor huffed and loudly cleared his throat. 

She and Jaime smiled warmly at each other. Her breath caught and somehow warmth filled her chest without his touch. “Now, go tell Bronn to stop building trenches and trebuchets,” Jaime commanded. 

Brienne tilted her head. “Should I not go tell my army to stop building trenches and trebuckets?” Her voice held a surprising amount of strength even if she did not feel such. 

Jaime pinched his lips. “Very well.” He waved his left hand at her. 

Brienne bowed her head. She turned to find Pod and make for the Lannister camp. Her army, although that did not at all sound correct. Jaime's army, it would always certainly be his army. She glanced once over her shoulder. 

Sandor chuckled and slapped Jaime on his back. Jaime spared her a glance and small smile, before turning to Sandor and continuing his words with the larger man.

She turned back to her task and her duties and for the moment tried not to get caught up in hopes for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managing this story in such a small time frame has been a lot of fun. I do hope the ending does not feel too easy, or that Jaime got off too easy. There is a smutty epilogue story in my head for this. But, this has already taken my writing power away from my WIP for the week. Meaning the epilogue will be coming as I can write it bit by bit with my longer story. Sorry.


End file.
